Mr. Carew and his noble companion having thus parted from each other, he took his way into the woodlands towards Frome; and the disguised lord, by a private way through the park and gardens, returned to his own house, and there, divesting himself of his rags, put on his embroidered apparel, and re-assumed the dignity and state to which both his birth and fortune entitled him. I am informed, said his lordship, that two sailors have been at my house; and, inquiring which way they went, he ordered two men and horses to go after them, with a strict charge to bring them back to his house, for he had heard they were impostors; and, if he found them such, he would treat them accordingly. The servants obeyed his commands without the least suspicion of the intricacy of this affair, and soon came up with Mr. Carew, whom they forcibly brought up to my lord. His lordship accosted him in a very rough stern manner, asking where the other fellow was, and told him he should be made to find him. Mr. Carew in the mean time stood thunder-struck, expecting nothing less than a commitment to prison, but, upon examination, made out his story as well as he could.
After having thus terrified and threatened him for a considerable time, his lordship went out, and, divesting himself of the habit and character of a nobleman, again put on his rags, and was, by histrusty valet-de-chambre, ushered into the room where his brother-beggar stood sweating for fear, when they compared notes together, whispering to each other what to say, in order that their accounts might agree when examined apart, as in effect they were. The steward took Mr. Carew aside into a private chamber, and there pretending that the other fellow’s relation contradicted his, and proved them both to be counterfeits, he said that a prison must be the portion of both; and indeed nothing was omitted that might strike Mr. Carew with the greatest terror and confusion. By this time my lord having thrown off his rags, and put on his fine apparel, Mr. Carew was again brought into his presence to receive his final sentence; when his lordship, having sufficiently diverted himself with the fear and consternation of his brother mumper discovered himself to him.
We might have mentioned before, that, while my lord and Mr. Carew travelled together, they asked each other whence they came, and what their names were. Mr. Carew ingeniously confessed his, but my lord disguised both his name and country; so that having accidentally met with a mendicant of the greatest note in England, his lordship thought fit to treat him in the manner aforesaid, which he would not have done to every common vagrant.—However, to satisfy himself that this was the famous and true Bampfylde Moore Carew, for many impostors had usurped his name, he sent for Captain Atkins, a gentleman of his acquaintance in the neighbourhood, who went to school with Mr. Carew at Tiverton. This gentleman was very glad to see his old school-fellow,and assured his lordship that it was really Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew, upon which his lordship very nobly entertained him at his house for the space of three days, and gave him an excellent suit of clothes and ten guineas; but, remembering the trouble they had, and the loss they were at to dispose of the shoulder of mutton and bread which the housekeeper had given them, as likewise the resolution Mr. Carew had once taken to throw it away, he called his housekeeper, and strictly charged her never to give away a morsel of victuals more, but bestow the alms in money only, rightly judging that to be more acceptable to beggars than the best of provisions, the greatest part of which they either waste, give away, or exchange for an inconsiderable quantity of drink, as my lord and Mr. Carew had done. His lordship took Mr. Carew to Warminster horserace, and there recommended him to many honourable gentlemen, who were very liberal to him. He several times after made bold to call upon his lordship in his rounds, and at every visit received a guinea, and a hearty welcome at his house. His lordship would frequently make himself merry with the story, and jocosely say, that he was more expert in the science of mumping than even Mr. Carew himself.
Not long after this, Mr. Carew came to Biddeford again, where he had been some time before, and delivered the compass to Captain Haley’s wife, who immediately burst into tears upon seeing it, supposing her husband was dead: he then went to the Dolphin, where, as he was drinking, he saw some gentlemen in the Butchers’ Row, and askedthe landlord who they were. Being told they were the Captains Harvey, Hopkins, and Burd,—Go, said he, and give my duty, and tell them Mr. Bampfylde Moore Carew is at your house. The landlord went accordingly, and soon returned with the captains. They were glad to see our hero, who returned them thanks for the favours he had received from them in America. The captains asked him a great many questions respecting his travels through the Indians’ country, &c., and told him they never thought he could have gone through that dangerous undertaking, but expected to have seen him return again. He then gave them an account of every thing to their satisfaction, telling them he had followed their directions in every point. They afterwards treated him very handsomely, and made a collection for him. The captains then going out, and reporting that he was in town, a great concourse of people assembled to see him, to the no little profit of the landlord; for our hero ordered that no one should be admitted to see him, till he had first drunk a quart of ale in the house.
Some time after this, he disguised himself like a poor miserable decrepid old man, and took to selling of matches and gathering old rags. Happening to meet a brother ragman at Wiveliscombe, they joined company, and agreed to travel to Porlock together. Just as they came to Gutter-Hall, night coming on a-pace, they proposed taking up their quarters there. The landlord told them he had no lodging to spare, but if they would go half-a-mile farther, and lie in a haunted house, they should have their lodging free cost, and good bread,cheese, and cider, with a rasher of bacon into the bargain. The ragmen very readily accepted this offer, and, accompanied by the landlord, repaired to Farmer Liddon’s house. When they came there the landlord told the farmer he had brought two men who would lie in the haunted house. The farmer received them very gladly, and asked them if they were sure they had courage enough to do it, adding he would give them twenty shillings if they could lay the old woman. Never fear, farmer, replied Mr. Carew; we have not only courage to speak to, but learning enough to lay, the old woman, so that you shall never hear of her more. Things being thus agreed on, the farmer’s son, a great stout fellow, willing to show his courage, in a very bold manner offered to keep them company. Having provided themselves with firing, cider, bread, cheese, and bacon, they adjourned to the haunted house, but not before Mr. Carew had taken an opportunity of going into the yard, and filling his pockets with large stones. When they came to the haunted house, they made a good fire, and he and his companion sat down, eating and drinking very merrily; but the farmer’s son, beginning to have some terrors upon him, had little stomach to eat. About the middle of the night, when every thing is most silent and solemn, at that time when every whisper of the mind is apt to create fear, Mr. Carew took an opportunity of throwing a stone unseen up the stairs, which, coming rumbling down again with a frightful noise, might have at that time struck a panic into the most courageous heart. The farmer’s son turned pale, and leaped from his chair in a great fright,believing that the old woman was making her entrance; but nothing appearing, the same awful silence and stillness as before took place, only fear staid behind in the farmer’s breast, and Mr. Carew and his companion kept mute, as though in expectation of what would follow; but soon this solemn silence was disturbed by a loud thump at the door; again the farmer leaped from his seat, crying out, O Lord! save and deliver us! At the same time, unable to command those passages at which fear is apt to issue out, he caused a smell almost as bad as Satan himself is said to bring along with him. Mr. Carew caught him in his arms, and, holding his head close to his breast, cried, don’t be afraid, Mr. Liddon, for I will make the old woman fly; at the same time, pretending to conjure her, he repeated three times very solemnly, “Hight spirito diabolico rubro oceano,” whilst his companion went a little aside, and answered in a squeaking tone, like Joan Liddon, unless my will is fulfilled, I will tear them in pieces.
Soon after cock-crowing, there was another huge blow at the door, and then they bid the farmer look up, telling him the old woman was gone; however, he would not let go his hold of Mr. Carew. Just as day-light appeared, his companion went forth, and picked up the stones from the stairs, entry, &c. He had scarce done this, before the old farmer came down, to see if his son was alive, and if they had seen old Joan. He accosted them with, How do you do? how have you spent the night? O father, replied the son, most terribly indeed. You can’t conceive what rattlings and noises we heard; but this good man securedme in his arms. But what smell is this? replied the father; sure old Joan stinks of brimstone, or something worse, if she brought this along with her. Ay, father, father, said the son, I believe you would have raised as bad a smell as I have done, if you had been here. Well, well, said the father, perhaps I might; but have you spoken to old Joan? Yes, indeed, replied Mr. Carew. And what does the old woman say? she says, if her will is not exactly fulfilled as she desired, she will never leave haunting you; but, if it be, all shall be well and quiet. They then went to the farmer’s house, where they were made very welcome, and received the twenty shillings, according to promise, the farmer requesting they would stay the next night by themselves, for he believed his son would have no stomach to go with them, and tell the old woman every thing should be fulfilled according to her will, and they should be satisfied to their content. They accordingly passed the next night there very merrily, and received another twenty shillings in the morning, which was well bestowed too by the farmer; for ever after the house had the reputation of being quiet.
Mr. Carew and his companion then set forward for Porlock, where they parted company; and Mr. Carew coming into Porlock, met Dr. Tanner, a relation of old Joan Liddon’s, and his brother, Parson Tanner, who was with him. After the usual salutations, he very composedly asked if they had heard the news of the conjuring old Joan? The doctor replied they had heard something of it, and that he was resolved either to send or take a ride over himself, to inquire into the truth of it. Heconfirmed it to them, which occasioned a great deal of discourse about it, and who these two conjurers could be.
We should, perhaps, have passed over in silence this adventure of our hero’s, but that an author of the first rate has taken a great deal of pains to frighten a poor soldier, and entertain his readers by dressing up his hero in a white coloured coat, covered with streams of blood; though we cannot well conceive how those streams of blood, which ran down the coat in the morning, should appear so very visible twenty hours after, in the middle of the night, and at a distance by the light of a single candle; notwithstanding this great author has very judicously acquainted us with a light-coloured coat; but however this may be, we are of opinion that the farmer’s son in the above adventure is a more entertaining character than the soldier in the renowned history we are speaking of; and that our hero, whenever it was needful, could make a much more tremendous figure than Mr. Jones in his white-coloured coat covered with streams of blood. The following is a sufficient instance.
Mr. Carew being in the town of Southmolton, in Devon, and having been ill used by a great officer, vulgarly called the bellman, was resolved to take comical revenge. It was about that time reported and generally believed, that a gentleman of the town, lately buried, walked by night in the church-yard; and, as the bellman was obliged by his nightly duty to go through it just at the hour of one, that well-known accustomed time of spectres issuing from their graves, Mr. Carew repairedthere a little before the time, and, stripping to his shirt, lay down upon the gentleman’s grave. Soon after, hearing the bellman approach, he raised himself up with a solemn slowness; which the bellman beholding, by the glimmering light of the moon through some thick clouds, he was harrowed up (as Shakspeare expresses it) with fear and wonder, and an universal palsy seized every limb; but, as nature most commonly dictates flight in all such cases, he retreated with as much haste as his shaking limbs would allow; yet, as fear naturally inclines us to look back upon the object we are flying from, he several times cast his eyes behind him, and beheld the ghost follow him with a solemn march. This added fresh vigour to his flight, so that he tumbled over graves and stones, not without many bruises, and at length dropped his bell, which the ghost seized upon as trophy, and forbore any farther pursuit. The bellman, however, did not stop till he reached home, where he obstinately affirmed he had seen the gentleman’s ghost, who had taken away his bell, which greatly alarmed the whole town; and there were not wanting many who afterwards frequently heard the ghost ringing the bell in the church-yard.
It was some time before the bellman had the courage to resume his usual nightly rounds through the church-yard; but after a while, his fear abating, he ventured upon it again, and met with no interruption. Mr. Carew happening about a year afterwards to be in Southmolton again, was afresh insulted by the bellman, which made him resolve to give him a second meeting in the church-yard; taking therefore the opportunity of a very darknight, he dressed himself in a black gown, put a great fur cap upon his head, and at the usual time of the bellman coming, repaired to the church-yard, holding in his mouth, by the middle, a stick lighted at both ends, at the same time rattling a heavy iron chain. If the bellman’s terror before was great, it was now much greater; and indeed the appearance, joined to the rattling of the chain, was so hideous, that the boldest soldier might have been terrified by it, without any imputation of cowardice. The bellman fled away with all the wings of fear, the spectre following him at a distance, rattling the chain with a most hideous noise; hence the bellman concluded himself to be haunted by the devil, and declined ever after his nocturnal employment.
About this time Mr. Carew met with one Mr. Philips, a celebrated limner in Porlock, who showed him a great many pictures of different likenesses, and asked him if he knew any of them. He pointed out his old school-fellow, Edward Dyke, Esq., and Sir Thomas Carew. Mr. Philips then asked him if he would sit for his picture, as he had been desired to draw it for Mr. Copplestone Bampfylde; which our hero agreeing to, he went the next day, and the following, to sit for the picture, undisguised. When it was finished, Mr. Philips desired him to come again another time in his mumping dress, which he accordingly promised to do.
After this he went to Minehead, and called on several of his old acquaintance, viz. Dr. Bell, Parson Beer, and the Collector, who all treated him very kindly. Having raised contributions fromthese gentlemen, he repaired to his quarters, and desired them to lend him a pair of trowsers. Having a mind to try some of the neighbouring country parishes, he pretended to be a cast-away seaman, 3500 miles from home, and picked up a great deal of money, and seven or eight pounds of bacon, which he brought to his quarters, and gave as a recompense for the loan of the trowsers.
Some days after he met with an old female acquaintance, who had a young child with her, at a place called Embercomb, with whom joining company, they came into Dunster, and lay at private lodgings. The next day, being willing to indulge his companion, he borrowed her child, a gown, and one of her petticoats. Thus accoutred, with the child in his arms, he returned to Minehead among the gentlemen he had so lately received contributions from; and pretending to be an unfortunate woman, whose house had been burnt at Chadleigh, and giving a good account of that place and its inhabitants to those who questioned him, coughing very violently, and making the child cry, he got a great deal of money, clothes for the child, and victuals. On his return to Dunster, he gave the mother of the child the clothes, and the greatest part of the money he had obtained in his trip; neither was this method new to him, for he had long before this taught his own daughter, a little infant, to say, “drowned in a boat,” as often as he or any other person asked her what was become of her mother, or mammy. Having made her perfect in this lesson, he set out with her upon his back, and pretended to have been a sailor on board a vessel that had been lately lost on thecoast of Wales, when most of the ship’s crew and passengers were drowned, among whom, he said, was the mother of the tender infant at his back, and that he had saved himself and the infant by swimming. By this story he pocketed a great deal of money every where, especially, as by way of confirmation, when he was telling of it, he would turn and ask the babe, where is your poor mammy, my dear, my jewel? To which the babe would reply, drowned in the boat; which so affected all that heard it, that it not only drew their purse but their tears also.
From Dunster he went through the country to Ilfracombe, where he inquired for a passage to Ireland. He was told there was no vessel going to Ireland, but that he might have a passage for Wales, which he soon resolved upon, and, after waiting upon the collector and some other friends in Ilfracombe, set sail for Swansea. He had no sooner landed there, than he repaired to the Rev. Mr. Griffy of that place, in the character of a cast-away seaman, a native of Devonshire; and, as he gave a particular account of Mr. Griffy’s son, the minister of Bishop’s Nympton, he was made very welcome, and handsomely relieved, and by his recommendations obtained a great deal of money in the town.
From thence he went in the same character to Lord Mansell’s, at Cowbridge, and other places, and returned to Swansea. Thence he set out again, travelling through the country to Tenby, where, hearing of one Captain Lott, he waited upon him with the same story, but with the addition of his name being John Lott, whereby he soongot half-a-crown and a good welcome. He next set out for Carmarthen, and raised a great deal of money from the Welsh gentry, pretending now to be an unfortunate sailor belonging to Ireland, who had been cast away near Portland Race, coming from Bilboa. He proceeded upon the same story to Aberystwyth and Port Ely, where he chanced to meet with a brother of the mendicant order, to whom he was well known; they inquired of each other’s success, and many other particulars, and agreed to join company for some time. Mr. Carew now got a cere-cloth of pitch, which he laid to his arms, with a raw beef-steak at the top, covered over with white bread and tar, which has the exact appearance of a green wound. They still continued in the same story of being cast away, but, added to it, that he had fallen off the rigging, and wounded his arm in that manner. They travelled together with good success as far as Shadwell, where they parted company.
Our hero made the best of his way to Holyhead, and begging a passage on board the packet to Dublin, after a fine trip landed at King’s End, near that city. His first inquiry here was for an old acquaintance, and in particular for one Mr. Crab, and Lord Annesly, who had been schoolfellows with him at Tiverton. He found my Lord Annesly lived a mile from the town, but did not see him the first day, being gone to Blessington, as the servants told him. Accordingly he set out for that town the next day, where he found my lord at a tavern with several officers; he went in, and told the tavern-keeper he wanted to speak with his lordship; but, as his appearance was none ofthe best, the tavern-keeper did not like to deliver this message to my lord, but asked what his business was. Tell him, said he, that I am an old school-fellow of his, and want to see him. My lord, being told this, came out with two gentlemen, and inquired who he was; which our hero told him. Ha! Mr. Carew, said his lordship, is it you, mon? walk in, walk in. What, said one of the captains, is this old Carew? the very same, replied my lord. After he had sat down for some time, and talked over several old affairs with my lord, one of the captains asked him if he could get him a good pointer. Ay, ay, that he can, replied his lordship; for, by my saul, mon, he and I have stolen many a dog, and lain in many a hay tallet, in our youthful days. Then turning to Mr. Carew, he told his fame was spread as much in Ireland as in England. Indeed it is so, replied one of the captains. His lordship then asked him how he found him out there. He replied, he had been directed there by their old school-fellow, Crab. Well, said my lord, you shall go home along with me. He desired to be excused, as he designed to go and see lord St. Leger, who was another of his school-fellows; but my lord swore by his saul he should go home along with him, and visit Lord St. Leger another time; accordingly a good horse was provided for him, and they all set out for Dublin.
The next day my Lord Annesly took him to his own house. During his abode here, which was about a fortnight, our hero received great civilities from the Irish gentry; Lord Annesly introducing him to all the chief company in the city,as the man they had heard so much talk of. One day Mr. O’Brien, a gentleman of great fortune, being in company, asked Mr. Carew if he had ever been on board the Yarmouth man-of-war; he replied, that he had been in her up the Baltic. The gentleman asked if he remembered a young gentleman about fourteen years of age, very fat, and who had a livery-servant to wait on him. He replied, that he remembered him very well, and that he was blest with as beautiful a face as any youth he ever saw. The gentleman then asked him if he recollected what became of him; which he answered, by saying he died at Gosport a day or two after they landed; and that Mr. Price, of Pool, composed a Latin epitaph for him; at which the gentleman could not refrain letting fall some tears, it being his own brother he was speaking of. He then asked what men-of-war were with them at that time; all which he gave a very good account of, saying, Sir Charles Wager and Rear-Admiral Walton commanded; Sir Charles carrying a red flag at the fore-topmast head of the Torbay, and the latter a blue at the mizen of the Cumberland, both eighty-gun ships. The gentleman replied, he was satisfied, for he had given a very faithful account of every thing; he then made Mr. Carew a present to drink his health when he came to England, as Lord Annesly said he would supply him while he was in Ireland. A great hunting-match being proposed, Lord Annesly told them that Mr. Carew could make one with the best of them at the diversion, upon which he was desired to make one of the party. Accordingly, they set out very early next morning, and had finesport, he exerting all his abilities, though he was afraid of riding into some bogs, of which the country is full. When the chase was ended, they all went to Lord Annesly’s to dinner, and the company allowed him to be an excellent sportsman.
Lord Annesly afterwards took him to Newry and many other places, introducing him to much company. At length he desired liberty to go and see his old school-fellow, Lord St. Leger, at Donnerail, which Lord Annesly would not consent to, unless he promised to call upon him again on his return; which agreeing to do, he sent his servant with him as far as Blessington. Parting with the servant here, he travelled to Kilkenny; thence to Cashel, (where is a fine seat belonging to Lord Mark Ker,) Clonmel, and Cahir, where our hero was taken dangerously ill. It would be unpardonable not to mention the hospitality he was treated with here. His good landlady, finding him so ill, sent for the minister of the place to come and pray by him, which he accordingly did, and at going away clapped half-a-crown into his hand, and soon after sent an apothecary to him, who administered what medicines were proper for him, which had so good an effect as to enable him to get upon his legs: however, they would not let him proceed forward for several days, lest he should relapse; and before he set out, the minister of the parish sent his clerk round the place to make a collection for the stranger. At length, being perfectly recovered, he set out for Lord St. Leger’s. When he came there, and was introduced, my lord presently recollected him, and cried, Why sure, and doubly sure, it is Carew!He then asked how long he had been in Ireland; adding, he hoped he would stay with him for some time. His lordship made him very welcome, and they talked over some of the merry pranks they had played together. Mr. Carew inquired if Sir Matthew Day, another of their old schoolfellows, was alive. His lordship told him he was dead; but that there was a young gentleman would be glad to see any old friend of his father’s. He abode with Lord St. Leger about a fortnight, being entertained in the kindest manner possible; at his departure, my lord made him a handsome present, and gave him a good suit of clothes, with a recommendatory letter to young Mr. Day.
Here he was received with great civility, as well upon account of Lord St. Leger’s letter, as being an old school-fellow of Mr. Day’s father. The conversation happening to turn upon dogs, Mr. Day told him he had heard he was very famous for enticing dogs away, and that Sir William Courtenay’s steward had told him there was not a dog could resist his allurements; however, he believed he had one that would; he then ordered a surly morose dog to be brought out, and offered to lay a wager he could not entice him away, which he readily accepted, and began to whistle to the dog, but found him very surly; upon which he took out a little bottle, and dropping a few drops upon a bit of paper, held it unseen to the dog, and then told Mr. Day the dog would follow him to England. Away then he went, and the dog after him. Mr. Day and his servants all followed, calling Roger, Roger, which was the name of the dog; but Roger turning a deaf ear to all theycould say, not thinking proper to turn about once. Mr. Carew having diverted himself sufficiently, by leading Mr. Day and his servants above half-a-mile, turned back again, with the dog still following him. Having abode here some days, he took his leave, receiving a handsome present from Mr. Day; he then returned back to Lord Annesly, and thence to Kinsale, where he took the first opportunity of a vessel, and landed at Padstow, in Cornwall, after a short and pleasant passage.
From this place he went to Camelford; thence to Great Torrington, where he met with his wife, and then proceeded to Biddeford: and on the next day, being Sunday, he strolled down to one Holmes, who kept a public-house between Biddeford and Appledore, where he passed great part of the day drinking pretty freely; and money being at a low ebb with him, he desired landlord Holmes to lend him a good suit of clothes, which he accordingly did. Being thus gallantly equipped, he went and planted himself at the church-door in Biddeford, and pretending to be the supercargo of a vessel which had been a few days before cast away near the Lizard, he got a very handsome contribution. From thence he travelled to Barnstaple, where he had great success, none suspecting him in his dress, as it was certainly known such a ship had been really cast away near the Lizard a few days before. Returning back, he called upon Squire Ackland, at Tremington, where he got half-a-crown of the lady upon the same story; then, steering to Appledore, he met with landlord Holmes, who had been in no little fear about his clothes; however, he would not disrobe till he gotto Appledore, where also he added to his store, and then returning to Holmes, he restored him his clothes, and gave him some small part of the profit of the excursion.
It was about this time Mr. Carew became acquainted with the Hon. Sir William Wyndham in the following manner.—Being at Watchet, in Somersetshire, near the seat of this gentleman, he was resolved to pay him a visit; putting on, therefore, a jacket and a pair of trowsers, he made the best of his way to Orchard Wyndham, Sir William’s seat; and luckily met with him, Lord Bolingbroke, and several other gentlemen and clergy, with some commanders of vessels, walking in the park. Mr. Carew approached Sir William with a great deal of seeming fearfulness and respect; and with much modesty acquainted him he was a Silverton man, (which parish chiefly belonged to Sir William,) and that he was the son of one of his tenants, named Moore; that he had been at Newfoundland, and in his passage homeward, the vessel was run down by a French ship in a fog, and only he and two more saved; and, being put on board an Irish vessel, he was carried into Ireland, and from thence landed at Watchet. Sir William, hearing this, asked him a great many questions concerning the inhabitants of Silverton, who were most of them his own tenants, and of the principal gentlemen in the neighbourhood, all of whom Mr. Carew was perfectly well acquainted with, and therefore gave satisfactory answers. Sir William at last asked him if he knew Bickley, (which is but a small distance from Silverton,) and if he knew the parson there. Mr. Carew repliedhe knew him very well, and indeed so he might, as it was no other than his own father. Sir William then inquired what family he had, and whether he had not a son called Bampfylde, and what was become of him. Your honour, replied he, means the mumper and dog-stealer: I don’t know what has become of him, but it is a wonder he is not hanged by this time. No, I hope not, replied Sir William; I should be very glad, for his family’s sake, to see him at my house. Having satisfactorily answered many other questions, Sir William, generously relieved him with a guinea, and Lord Bolingbroke followed his example; the other gentlemen and clergy contributed according to their different ranks, which they were the more inclined to do, as the captains found he could give a very exact account of all the settlements, harbours, and most noted inhabitants of Newfoundland. Sir William then ordered him to go to his house, and tell the butler to see him well entertained, which he accordingly did; and he set himself down with great content and satisfaction; but our enjoyments are often so suddenly dashed, that it has become a proverb, “that many things happen between the cup and the lip,” and Mr. Carew found it so; for, while he was in the midst of his regale, he saw enter, not the ghost of bloody Banquo to take his seat from him, nor yet the much more tremendous figure of Mr. Tom Jones, in a light-coloured coat covered with streams of blood; no, but the foot-post from Silverton, with letters to Sir William. This proved to be little less than a very sharp sword hanging by a hair over Mr. Carew’s head,for, as he thought it natural Sir William would ask him some questions about Mr. Moore, and as he did not choose, though he had passed Sir William’s strict examination, to undergo a fresh one, he made great haste to rise from table, and set out without using much ceremony. A few miles distant from hence he met Dr. Poole going from Dulverton to Sir William’s, who, knowing Mr. Carew, stopped his horse to talk to him. Amongst other conversation at Sir William’s, the Dr. happened to mention whom he had met that day (not knowing that he had been lately there); it was soon known by the description he gave of his person and habit, to be no other than the unfortunate Silverton man, to whom Sir William and his friends had been so generous, which occasioned a great deal of mirth. About two months after, Mr. Carew again ventured to pay his honour a second visit, in the habit and character of an unfortunate grazier; he met the worthy baronet and his lady taking the air in a chaise, in a meadow where some haymakers were then at work; he approached them with a great deal of modest simplicity, and began a very moving tale of the misfortunes he had met with in life. In the midst of his oration, Sir William called to the haymakers to secure him; which struck his eloquence dumb, or at least changed it from the pathetic to the tragic style, for he could not conceive what might be the end of this; however, the baronet soon gave him a choice of either a true confession of his name and profession, or a commitment to prison; he made choice of the former, and confessed himself to be Bampfylde Moore Carew, sovereign of the wholecommunity of mendicants. Sir William, with a great deal of good-nature, treated him with all that respect which is due to royalty; entertained him generously at his house, and made him a very handsome present at his departure, desiring him to call upon him as he came that way; and he was ever a constant friend and benefactor to him.
Soon after this he planned a new design, which he put into execution with great success. Dressing himself up in a chequered shirt, jacket, and trowsers, he went upon Exeter quay, and, with the rough but artless air and behaviour of a sailor, inquired for some of the king’s officers, whom he informed that he belonged to a vessel lately come from France, which had landed a large quantity of run goods, but the captain was a rascal, and had used him ill, and damn his blood if he would not ---. He was about to proceed, but the officers, who with greedy ears swallowed all he said, interrupted him by taking him into the custom-house, and filling him a bumper of cherry brandy, which when he had drunk, they forced another upon him, persuading him to wet the other eye, rightly judging that the old proverb, ‘In wine there is truth,’ might with equal propriety be applied to brandy, and that they should have the fuller discovery, the more the honest sailor’s heart was cheered; but, that no provocation should be wanting to engage him to speak the truth, they asked him if he wanted any money. He with much art answered very indifferently, no; adding, he scorned to make such a discovery out of a mercenary view, but that he was resolved to be revenged of his captain. They then ordered him to the signof the Boot, in St. Thomas’s, Exeter, whither they soon followed him, having first sent to Mr. Eastwood, an exciseman, to ask what he would have for dinner, and what liquor he would have to drink. A fire was lighted up stairs in a private room, a couple of ducks roasted, and full glasses of wine and punch went cheerfully round; they then thrust four guineas into his hand, which at first he seemed unwilling to accept of, which made them the more pressing. He now began to open his mind with great freedom, gave a particular account of the vessel, where they had taken in their cargo at France, and what it consisted of; the day they sailed, and the time they were on their passage; and at last concluded with acquainting them they had landed and concealed part of their valuable cargo in the out-houses of Squire Mallock, of Cockington, and the remainder in those of Squire Cary, of Tor-abbey, both which houses, upon account of their situation on the sea-side, were very noted for such concealments. The officers, having now got on the scent, were like sagacious hounds for pursuing it forthwith, and also thought proper the sailor should accompany them; and, to prevent all suspicion, resolved he should now change his habit; they therefore dressed him in a ruffled shirt, a fine suit of broad cloth belonging to the collector, and put a gold-laced hat on his head; then, mounting him on a fine black mare, away they rode together, being in all seven or eight of them; they that night reached Newton-Bushel, and slept at the Bull; nothing was wanting to make the night jovial; the greatest delicacies the town afforded were served up at their table, the best liquorswere broached for them, and music, with its enlivening charms, crowned the banquet; the officers’ hearts were quite open and cheerful, as they already enjoyed, in imagination, all the booty they were to seize on the morrow. Thinking they could not do enough for the honest sailor, they inquired if he knew any thing of accounts; promising, if he did, to get him a place in the customs. In the morning, after a good hearty breakfast, they set forward for Tor-abbey; and, being arrived in Tor-town, they demanded the constables’ assistance, who was with the utmost reluctance prevailed on to accompany them in making this search; Squire Gary being a gentleman so universally beloved by the whole parish, (to which he always behaved as a father,) that every one was very backward in doing any thing to give him the least uneasiness. Did gentlemen of large estates in the country but once taste the exalted pleasure of making the whole neighbourhood happy, and consider how much honest industry they might support, how much misery they might alleviate, and how many daily blessings they might have poured forth upon their heads from hearts overflowing with love, respect and gratitude, almost to adoration, we should not so often see them leave their noble country mansions to repair to noise and folly; nor exchange the heart-enlivening pleasure of making numbers happy, for the beguiling smiles and unmeaning professions of a prime minister.
Being come to the house, they all dismounted, and the collector desired the sailor to hold his horse, but he replied he would rather go round the garden, and meet them on the other side of thehouse, to prevent any thing from being conveyed away, and that it would be proper he should be present to show the particular place where every thing was deposited. This appeared quite right to the collector; he therefore contented himself with fastening his horse to the garden rails, and proceeded with the rest of the officers, in great form, to search the dog-kennel, coal-house, dove-house, stables, and all other suspicious places, expecting every minute to see the informing sailor, who by this time had nearly got back to Newton-Bushel, having turned his horse’s head that way as soon as he was out of sight of the collector. He stopped at the Bull, where they had been the preceding night, and drank a bottle of wine; then, ordering a handsome dinner to be got ready for his company, whom he said he had left behind, because his business called him with urgent haste to Exeter, he clapped his spurs to his horse, and did not stop till he reached that city, where he put up at the Oxford inn, then kept by Mr. Buckstone, to whom both himself and friends were well known; he acquainted Mr. Buckstone that he was now reformed, and lived at home with his friends, and spent the night very jovially, calling for the best of every thing. In the morning he desired Mr. Buckstone to do him the favour of lending him a couple of guineas, till he could receive some of a merchant in the city upon whom he had a bill, for the merchant was gone out of town. As Mr. Buckstone had a mare in his custody worth ten or twelve pounds, he made no scruple of doing it; and soon after Mr. Carew thought proper to change his quarters, without bidding the landlord good-bye.Leaving the mare to discharge the reckoning and the loan he had borrowed, he repaired immediately to a house of usual resort for his community, where he pulls off the fine clothes the collector had lent him, and rigged himself again in a jacket and trowsers; then setting out for Topsham, about three miles from the city of Exeter, he there executed the same stratagem upon Mr. Carter and the other officers there; informing them also of some great concealments at Sir Coppleston Bampfylde’s house, at Poltimore, for which they rewarded him with a good treat and a couple of guineas.
The Exeter officers (whom, as we have before said, he left without the least ceremony at Squire Gary’s) having searched all the out-houses, and even in the dwelling-house, very narrowly, without finding any prohibited goods, began to suspect the sailor had outwitted them; therefore they returned in a great hurry to Newton-Bushel, all their mirth being turned into vexation, and their great expectations vanished into smoke. Soon after they had dismounted from their horses, the landlord brought in the dinner, which he said their companion had ordered to be got ready for them; but though it was a very elegant one, yet they found abundance of faults with every thing; however, as it was too late to reach Exeter that night, they were obliged to take up their quarters there; but, instead of the jollity and good humour that reigned among them the night before, there now succeeded a sullen silence, interrupted now and then by some exclamations of revenge, and expressions of dislike of every thing that was brought them: when they came into Exeter the next day, they had intelligencebrought them of the mare, which was safe enough at the Oxford inn; but they were obliged to disburse the money Mr. Carew had made her surety for.
From Topsham Mr. Carew proceeded to Exmouth, where he also succeeded, and from thence to Squire Stucky’s, a justice of peace at Brandscombe, about four miles from Sidmouth; and, being introduced, acquainted his worship with several discoveries he could make; the justice thereupon immediately dispatched a messenger for Mr. Duke, an officer in Sidmouth; in the mean time he entertained him very handsomely, and pressed him to accept of two guineas, as a small token of kindness, often shaking him by the hand, and saying, he thought himself very much obliged to him for making this discovery: and that, as a reward for his loyalty to the king, he would engage to get him a place, having many friends at London. About two o’clock the next morning, Mr. Duke, the sailor, and servant of the squire’s, set forward towards Honiton, it being at Squire Blagdon’s, near the town, where they were to find the hidden treasure. Mr. Carew was mounted on a good horse of Justice Stucky’s, and, while the officer and servant were very busy in searching the out-houses and stables, Mr. Carew gave them the slip, and posted away to Honiton, and took some refreshment at the Three Lions; then leaving the justice’s horse to answer for it, hasted away to Lime, in Dorsetshire; where he applied to Mr. Jordan, the collector of the place, whom he sent upon the same errand some miles off, to Colonel Brown’s, at Frampton; but the collector, not judging it properfor him to accompany him, for fear of creating suspicion, left him at his own house till his return, giving his servant orders to let him want for nothing; at the same time making him a handsome present, as an earnest of a greater reward when he returned. Mr. Carew enjoyed himself very contentedly at the collector’s house for several hours, both eating and drinking of the best, as he knew Frampton was at too great a distance for him to return presently; but he prudently weighed his anchor when he thought the collector might be on his return, and steered his course towards Weymouth, where he made his application to the collector, and after being handsomely treated, and a present given to him, sent the officers to Squire Groves’s, near White-street, and Squire Barber’s, on the Chase, both in Wiltshire. And as soon as they were gone, he set out for Poole; and sent the collector and officers of that place to Sir Edward Boobey’s, who lived in the road between Salisbury and Hendon; they gave him two guineas in hand, and a promise of more upon their return with the booty; in the mean time they recommended him to an inn, and gave orders that he should have any thing the house afforded, and they would make satisfaction for it; but this adventure had like not to have ended so well for him as the former; for, being laid down upon a bed to nap, having drunk too freely, he heard some people drinking and talking in the next room of the great confusion there was in all the sea-ports in the west of England, occasioned by a trick put on the king’s officers by one Bampfylde Carew, and that this news was broughtto Poole by a Devonshire gentleman, who accidently came that way. Mr. Carew hearing this, rightly judged Poole was no proper place to make a longer stay in; he therefore instantly arose, and, by the help of a back door, got into a garden, and with much difficulty climbed over the wall belonging thereto, and made the best of his way to Christchurch, in Hampshire; here he assumed the character of a shipwrecked seaman, and raised considerable contributions. Coming to Ringwood, he inquired of the health of Sir Thomas Hobbes, a gentleman in that neighbourhood, who was a person of great hospitality; he was told that some of the mendicant order, having abused his benevolence, in taking away a pair of boots, after he had received a handsome present from him, it had so far prejudiced Sir Thomas, that he did not exercise the same hospitality as formerly. This greatly surprised and concerned Mr. Carew, that any of his subjects should be guilty of so ungrateful an action: he was resolved therefore to inquire strictly into it, that, if he could find out the offender, he might inflict a deserved punishment upon him; and therefore resolved to pay a visit to Sir Thomas the next morning, hoping he should get some light into the affair. When he came to the house, it was pretty early in the day, and Sir Thomas had not come out of his chamber; however, he sent up his pass, as a shipwrecked seaman, by one of the servants, who presently returned with half-a-crown. As he had been always wont to receive a large present from Sir Thomas, whenever he had applied to him, he thought there was some unfair practice at the bottom; he thereforeasked the footman for a copper of ale to drink the family’s health, hoping Sir Thomas might come down by that time; the servant pretended to be in so great a hurry, that he could not attend to draw any, but he was of too humane a nature to permit the poor sailor to suffer by his hurry, so gave him a shilling out of his own pocket to drink at the next public-house. This extraordinary generosity of the footman increased Mr. Carew’s suspicion; he therefore kept loitering about the door, and often looking up at the window, in hopes of seeing Sir Thomas, which accordingly happened, for at length he flung up the sash, and accosted him in a free familiar manner, called him Brother Tar, and told him he was very sorry for his misfortunes, and that he had sent him a piece of money to assist him in his journey towards Bristol. Heaven bless your honour, replied he, for the half-crown your honour sent me; upon which Sir Thomas ran down in his morning gown, and with great passion seized the footman by the throat, and asked him what he had given the sailor. The fellow was struck dumb with this, and indeed there was no need for his tongue on the present occasion, as his looks, and the trembling of his limbs, sufficiently declared his guilt; however he at last owned it with his tongue; and excused himself by saying, he knew there was an ill use made of the large bounties his honour gave. Sir Thomas, enraged at the insolence of his servant, bestowed upon him the discipline of the horse-whip, for his great care and integrity in not seeing his bounty abused; adding, he now saw by whose villany he had lost his boots. He then made the footman return thewhole guinea to the sailor, and discharged him from any further service in his family; upon which Mr. Carew took his leave with great thankfulness, and went his way, highly pleased with his good success in this adventure.—Here we cannot forbear wishing that there was no higher character in life than Sir Thomas’s footman, to whose hands gold is apt to cling in passing through them; that there was no steward who kept back part of his master’s rent, because he thinks he has more than he knows what to do with; no managers of charities, who retain part of the donors’ benefactions in their own hands, because it is too much for the poor; nor officers of the public, who think they may squander the public treasure without account, because what is everybody’s is nobody’s.
Mr. Carew having laid aside his sailor’s habit, put on a long loose vest, placed a turban on his head, dignified his chin with a venerable long beard, and was now no other than a poor unfortunate Grecian, whose misfortunes had overtaken him in a strange country. He could not utter his sorrowful tale, being unacquainted with the language of the country; but his mute silence, his dejected countenance, a sudden tear that now and then flowed down his cheek, accompanied with a noble air of distress, all pleaded for him in more persuasive eloquence than perhaps the softest language could have done, and raised him considerable gains; and indeed benevolence can never be better exerted than towards unfortunate strangers, for no distress can be so forlorn as that of a man in necessity in a foreign country; he has no friends to apply to, no laws to shelter him under, no means to providefor his subsistence, and therefore can have no resource but in those benevolent minds who look upon the whole world as their own brethren.
We have already mentioned Mr. Carew’s being on board the Yarmouth man-of-war up the Baltic; it will not, therefore, be improper here to relate the occasion of that voyage, which was as follows:—He and his friend, Coleman, being at Plymouth, and appearing to be able-bodied men, some officers seeing them there, thought them extremely fit to serve his majesty, therefore obliged them to go on board the Dunkirk man-of-war: but they not liking this, Coleman pricked himself upon the wrists, between his fingers, and other joints, and inflamed it so with gunpowder, that every one thought it to be the itch; he was therefore carried ashore, and put into the hospital, from whence he soon made his escape. Mr. Carew tried the stragem, but too late; for the Lively and Success men-of-war now arriving from Ireland with impressed men, they were all of them carried immediately (together with the impressed men lying at Plymouth) to the grand fleet, then lying at Spithead; they were first put on board the Bredau, Admiral Hosier, to choose whom he liked of them: and their names being called over, the Irishmen were all refused; which Mr. Carew seeing declared himself, in a true Irish brogue, to be a poor Irish weaver, and disabled in one arm, whereupon he was also refused: the Irish, among whom he was now ranked, were carried from ship to ship, and none would accept of them, which made them all expect to be discharged; but they were disappointed in their hopes, for they wereput on board the Yarmouth, Captain O’Brien, being one of the squadron destined for the Baltic. Mr. Carew finding Captain O’Brien refused no Irishmen, when he came to be examined changed his note, and declared himself to be an Englishman, but crippled in one arm: however, the captain accepted of him, and putting a sword in his hand, made him stand sentry at the bitts, which easy post he liked very well; and during all the time he was on board, every one supposed him really disabled in his arm.
The fleet, sailing from Spithead with a fair wind, anchored safely at Copenhagen, and then the king of Denmark came on board Sir Charles Wager: the moment he set his foot on board, both the flag-ships were covered with an infinite number of colours of every hue, which, waving in the wind, made a most gallant sight: upon his departure, the colours were all taken down in an instant, and every ship fired eighteen or twenty guns. Sailing from Copenhagen, they anchored next in Elson Cape, in Sweden; from hence they sailed to Revel, in a line of battle, in form of a rainbow, and anchored there: the sick men were carried ashore to Aragan island, which Mr. Carew observing, and burning with love to revisit his native country, counterfeited sickness, and was accordingly carried ashore to this island, which lies near Revel, belonging to the Muscovites, from whence boats came every day to fetch wood. He prevailed upon an Englishman, who was a boatswain to one of the Czarina’s men-of-war, to give him a passage in his boat from that island to Revel town; when he came there, the boatswain used great endeavoursto persuade him to enter her majesty’s service, but it was all in vain, being resolved to return to his beloved country; the boatswain, therefore, having entertained him a day and a night at his house, gave him, at his departure, a piece of money, and engaged several Englishmen of his acquaintance to do the same; he likewise furnished him with a bag of provisions, a bottle of excellent brandy, a tinder-box, and a few lines wrote in that country language, which he was to show to those he met, to inform him of the road he was to go; and then conducted him out of the town. That night he took up his lodgings in the woods, and, by the help of his tinder-box, made a large fire all round him, to secure himself from any visits from the wild beasts, then broiled a piece of flesh, drank a dram, and rested very quietly till morning, it being the middle of summer.
The whole country here is wild, full of large woods and uninhabited deserts, the towns and villages lying very thin. In the morning, finding his way out of the woods, he espied a lonely hut, to which he made up, and making signs of hunger and thirst, they gave him some rusk bread and cabereta, or goat’s flesh, to eat, and some goat’s milk to drink, which is the usual fare amongst those people, who are most of them Lutherans by religion, and lead very sober lives; of some of them he got small bits of money, which they call campekes, and are of silver, something larger than a barley-corn, being of a penny value; he likewise frequently got drams of excellent brandy amongst them, and his shoes being worn-out by travelling,they gave him a pair of good wooden ones, which sat very awkwardly on his English feet.
After six or seven days’ travel through this wild country he came to Riga, a large town and famous sea-port: here he met with many English merchants and commanders of vessels, who were very kind to him; he tarried two days in Riga, to rest and refresh himself: during which the English merchants and commanders provided lodgings and other accommodations for him, collecting upwards of fifty shillings for him. Having expressed his utmost gratitude towards his good benefactors, he again pursued his journey, subsisting himself sometimes on the charity of the inhabitants of the country, and at other times milking the cows upon the mountains or in the woods. The next place of note he arrived at was the city of Dantzic, in the kingdom of Poland: here he found a great number of English merchants who traded to Exeter, and Bristol, and had many correspondents living in those places, several of whom Mr. Carew being acquainted with, he gave a particular account of.
Having been entertained here very hospitably for several days, he set out again, having first received some handsome presents from the English merchants. From Dantzic he got a passage on board an English brigantine bound for Copenhagen, but through stress of weather was obliged to put into Elson Cape, where he went on shore, and travelled by land to Stockholm, the capital of Sweden, but in his road thither he lost his way in this wild and desert country, and for the space of three days and nights saw neither house, hut, nor humancreature, the weather being very thick and foggy. Nothing could be more melancholy and dreadful than these three days’ travel; his provisions were exhausted, and every step he took he was uncertain whether it might lead him farther into the woods, as he could make no observation how the country lay, the fog intercepting the light of every thing. Sometimes fancy would paint to him a hut through the fog at a little distance, to which he would direct his steps with eager haste, but when he came nearer, found it nothing but an illusion of sight, which almost drove him to despair. The fourth day he was exceedingly hungry, when, to his great joy, he espied two she-goats fastened together with ropes of straw: he ran to them with great eagerness, and drunk very heartily of their milk; after this he began to consider that there must be some hut at least hard by, as the goats could not have strayed in that manner any great distance; he therefore resolved to stay upon the spot for some time; and soon after the fog clearing up, he espied a hut just before him, to which he directly repaired, and there got a belly-full of their homely fare, and directions to find his way to Stockholm.
The religion of this country being chiefly Lutheran, he passed for the son of a presbyterian parson, and his name Slowly, pretending to have been cast away in a vessel bound for Revel. The Lutherans at Stockholm were exceedingly kind to him and raised a handsome contribution for him. He likewise chanced there to meet with a relation of Dr. Bredaw, a Swiss gentleman, that resided atDartmouth, in Devonshire, who asked several questions about him; and as Mr. Carew was well acquainted with him, he gave very satisfactory answers, upon which account that gentleman gave him a guinea, a great fur cap, a coat, and a fine dog, with a letter to carry to his relation at Dartmouth.
From Stockholm he went to Charles-town, and after a short stay there continued his journey to Copenhagen, the metropolis of Denmark; here he met with one Captain Thomas Giles, of Minehead in Somersetshire, who knew him, and was surprised to see him in that part of the world, and not only liberally relieved him himself, but recommended him to several English commanders there, and also to several inhabitants of the city. From Copenhagen he went to Elsinburgh, thence to Elsinore, where he got a passage for England, and once more arrived in his native country. Landing at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, he visited his wife’s relations, and then set forward for Devonshire, travelling all the way in the character of a shipwrecked seaman. Meeting at Exeter with his beloved wife, and likewise with his friend Coleman and his wife, they travelled together for some time, during which Coleman’s wife was delivered of a daughter; but as they found so helpless an infant a great hindrance to their travelling, Mr. Carew contrived a stratagem to get rid of it, and at the same time advanced the fortune of the child.
There was in the town, where they then were, a gay bachelor, who lived with his mother and sisters, and was a great admirer of that order of female travellers called Cousin Betties. Coleman’swife had been with him some months before in that character, was very well entertained, and, amongst other favours, received a present of a silk handkerchief. They therefore dressed up the babe very neatly, wrapped it up exceeding warm, and put it in a hand-basket, taking care to put in the handkerchief Coleman’s wife had received from this gay bachelor; then getting a large boar cat, in the dusk of the evening they tied it to the knocker of the door, setting down before it the basket with the helpless infant. The cat, not liking the treatment, made a hideous squalling, and with his struggling, rap, rap, rap, went the knocker of the door; out ran the gentleman, with his mother, sisters, and servants, and the neighbourhood gathered about the door to see what this noise could mean. Mr. Carew and Coleman mingled among them to learn what would be the event of their stratagem. The cat, by long struggling, got free of the knocker, and ran away, only leaving part of the tail behind. The basket alone now engaged the attention of every one, and being delivered to the gentleman to open, the feeble cries of an infant soon reached their ears. The mother and sisters, alarmed at this unexpected salutation, snatched the basket from him, and upon the child’s breast found a note in these words:
“Remember, sir, where you last met me, you have not been so kind as you often promised and swore you would: however, it justly belongs to you. I have made bold to send you the fruits of our meeting, and this handkerchief which you made me as a token. Be kind to our infant daughter;and the unfortunate mother on her part, will forgive you.“Your’s, &c.”
“Remember, sir, where you last met me, you have not been so kind as you often promised and swore you would: however, it justly belongs to you. I have made bold to send you the fruits of our meeting, and this handkerchief which you made me as a token. Be kind to our infant daughter;and the unfortunate mother on her part, will forgive you.
“Your’s, &c.”
The horrid squalling of the cat did not grate so disagreeably upon the gentleman’s ears, as the reading of these words; so that his hat and wig were flung off, and he ran about stamping and swearing that the child was none of his, neither did he know any thing of the mother. On the other hand, his mother and sisters flew into a violent rage, assailing his ears on every side with reproaches; so that he would at that time have thought deafness preferable to any one of the senses. “Dost thou deny the child to be thine?” cried the mother: “has it not thy very eyes, nose, and mouth? and is this not thy very handkerchief? this thou canst not deny, for I can safely swear it was thine.” The poor gentleman, thus beset on all sides, was obliged to quit the field; the child was taken into the house, and brought up and educated there, and is at this day a very accomplished fine lady.
Some time after this adventure, Mr. Carew took passage at Folkstone, in Kent, for Boulogne in France, where he arrived safe, and proceeded to Paris and other cities in that kingdom. His habit was now tolerably good, his countenance grave, his behaviour sober and decent, pretending to be a Roman-catholic, who left England, his native country, out of an ardent zeal of spending his days in the bosom of the catholic church. This story readily gained belief; his zeal was universally applauded, and handsome contributions made for him; but at the same time he was so zealous aRoman-catholic, with a little change of habit, he used to address those English he heard of in any place as a protestant shipwrecked seaman. He had the good fortune, in this character, to meet an English physician at Paris, to whom he told his deplorable tale, who was so much affected by it, that he not only relieved him very handsomely, but, what was more, recommended him to that noble pattern of unexhausted benevolence, Mrs. Horner, who was on her travels, from whom he received ten guineas, and from some other company with her, five more.
Here, reader, if thou hast a good heart, we cannot entertain thee better, than by drawing a true though faint picture of this generous lady; for, were benevolence and generosity real beings, we are persuaded they would act just like her; with such an unsparing hand would they bestow their bounties, and with such magnificence reward desert; with such godlike compassion cheer the afflicted, and just so make happy all around them: but thou canst form no adequate idea, unless thou hast been in the neighbourhood of that noble mansion, the seat of Mrs. Horner, at Mulberry, Dorsetshire, where benevolence has fixed her seat. Permit me, therefore, to transport thee thither, to bless thy sight with the delightful scene. See, already, the parish church, rebuilt at her expense, strikes the eye; it is she that has erected it to the honour of her God. Thou art surprised, I see, to behold an eminent physician, who is allowed a constant salary by her to visit the poor sick in her neighbourhood, coming out of his chariot to enter the wretched huts of poverty; but know, she hasalready paid his fees: see here another compounding the choicest drugs and medicines for a whole neighbourhood; it is her bounty that has supplied them. Cast your eye the other way, and behold that company of aged and decrepid poor; they are going to receive their daily bread at her table. But let us enter the poor cottage; see, here are the holy Scriptures and other books of pious instruction; and, hark! the lisping child is reading distinctly in one of them; her munificence has bestowed these useful gifts, and instilled instruction into that tender mind. Behold, with how dejected a look and grief-swollen heart, with what a load of care, yon person enters the mansion: but see, he returns—how changed his aspect! joy sparkles in his eye, and thankfulness swells his exulting heart; content sits cheerful upon his brow, and he no longer bends under his care: what wonderful magic has wrought this sudden change?—the opening only of her beneficent hand has done it.
What we are now going to relate will raise an honest indignation in the breast of every true lover of liberty; for all such know that the beauteous flower of liberty sickens to the very root (like the sensitive plant) at the lightest touch of the iron hand of power upon any one of its most distant branches.
Mr. Carew being in the city of Exeter with his wife, and, having visited his old friends there, he walked to Topsham, about three miles distant, leaving his wife in Exeter. Alas! little did he think this walk would end in a long and cruel separation from his friends and country; little did he imagine, that, in the land of freedom and justice,he should be seized upon by the cruel grasp of lawless power: though poor, he thought himself under the protection of the laws, and, as such, liable to no punishment till they inflicted it. How far he thought right in this, let the sequel tell. Going down to Topsham, and walking upon the quay there, enjoying the beauties of a fine evening, meditating no harm, and suspecting no danger, he was accosted by merchant D---y, accompanied with several captains of vessels, in some such words as these: Ha! Mr. Carew, you are come in a right time! As you came home for your own pleasure you shall go over for mine. They then laid hands on him, who found it in vain to resist, as he was overpowered by numbers; he therefore desired to be carried before some magistrate, but this was not hearkened to, for they forced him on board a boat, without the presence or authority of any officer of justice, not so much as suffering him to take leave of his wife, or acquaint her with his misfortune, though he begged the favour almost with tears. The boat carried him on board the Phillory, Captain Simmonds, bound for America with convicts, which then lay at Powderham-castle waiting for a fair wind. Here, had my pen gall enough, I would put a blot of eternal infamy on that citizen of liberty, who usurped so much power over a fellow-citizen, and those who suffered a brother of liberty, however undeserving, to be dragged to slavery by the lawless hand of power, without the mandate of sovereign justice. Foolish wretch! dost thou not know that thou oughtest to be more careful of keeping all usurping power within its bounds, than thou wouldst the ragingsea ready to overflow and overwhelm them all; for thou who hast consented to see power oppress a fellow-heir of glorious liberty, how canst thou complain, if its all-grasping iron hand should seize upon thyself, or whatever thou holdest most dear? then wouldst thou, too late, bewail that thou hadst ever suffered power wantonly to set foot on the neck of liberty.
But to return: Mr. Carew was no sooner put on board, than he was strictly searched, and then taken between decks, where he was ironed down with the convicts. There was at the same time a violent fever raging among them, and Mr. Carew, by being chained with them night and day, was soon infected, and taken very ill; however, he had not the liberty of sending to his wife, nor any of his friends, though they lay three weeks in the roads for a fair wind. In the mean time, his wife, not hearing any thing from him, and uncertain what was become of him, or whether he was alive or dead, abandoned herself to an excess of grief, for he had always been a kind and affectionate husband to her; she therefore sought him up and down, at all the houses of his usual resort, but in vain, for no news could she gain of her beloved husband.
The wind coming fair, they hoisted sail, and soon bid adieu to the English coasts. We need not describe what passed in Mr. Carew’s breast at this time; anger and grief prevailed by turns, sometimes resentment, for being thus treated, fired his bosom, and he vowed revenge: at other times the thoughts of his being thus unexpectedly separated from his country and friends, and doomedto an ignominious slavery, filled him with sad and melancholy reflections; however, he had the pleasure, before it was long, of knowing he was not entirely deserted; for Captain Simmonds, the commander of the Phillory, a humane compassionate man, came down to him between decks, soon after they were under sail, and bid him be of good cheer, for he should want for nothing; and though he had strict orders from merchant D---y never to let him return, yet he would be a friend to him, and provide for him in the best manner he could. Mr. Carew returned thanks to his generous and unexpected benefactor in as handsome a manner as he was able.
Soon after this, he had liberty allowed him of coming upon deck, where the captain entered into conversation with him, and jocosely asked if he thought he could be at home before him. He generously replied he thought he could, at least he would endeavour to be so; which the captain took all in good part.
Thus did Mr. Carew spend his time, in as agreeable a manner as could be expected under his present circumstances: but, alas! all our happiness is too fleeting, and we scarcely taste the pleasure before it is ravished from us: and thus it happened to our hero; for they had scarcely been under sail five weeks before the good Captain Simmonds was taken ill, which increased every day with too many fatal symptoms; till at last death, who regards alike the good and virtuous, and the bad and vicious, struck the fatal blow: but the approaches of the grisly tyrant were not so dreadful to this man, as the distress it would occasionto his wife and family, whom he cried out for during his whole illness. Mr. Carew bewailed the loss of this generous benefactor with more than outward sorrow. Every thing in the vessel was now in confusion by the death of the captain; at length the mate, one Harrison of Newcastle, took charge of the vessel and the captain’s effects; but had not enjoyed his new honours before he was taken dangerously ill, so that the vessel was obliged to be left to the care of the common sailors, and was several times in great danger of being lost. At last, after sixteen weeks passage, in the grey of the morning, they made Cape Charles, and then bore away to Cape Henry: at Hampton they took in a pilot. The vessel having several times run upon the sand, and was not got off again without great difficulty; the pilot soon after brought them to Kent-island, where they fired a gun, and Harrison, who was now recovered, went on shore, near Annapolis, and made a bargain with one Mr. Delany of that place, for Mr. Carew, as an expert gardener. He was then sent on shore, and Mr. Delany asked him if he understood gardening. Being willing to get out of Harrison’s hands, he replied in the affirmative; but Mr. Delany asking him if he could mow, he replied in the negative. Then you are no gardener, replied Mr. Delany, and so refused to buy him. Then one Hilldrop, who had been transported about three years before from Exeter, for horse stealing, and had married a currier’s widow in Annapolis, had a mind to purchase him, but they could not agree about the price, whereupon he was put on board again, and they sailed from Miles-river.
Here they fired a gun, and the captain went on shore; in the mean time the men prisoners were ordered to be close shaved, and the women to have clean caps on: this was scarcely done, before an overseer belonging to Mr. Bennet, in Way-river, and several planters, came up to buy. The prisoners were all ordered upon deck, and Mr. Carew among them: some of the planters knew him again, and cried out, “Is not this the man Captain Froade brought over, and put a pot-hook upon?” Yes, replies Mr. Harrison, the very same: at which they were much surprised, having an account he had been either killed by the wild beasts or drowned in some river. Ay, ay, replied Harrison with a great oath, I’ll take care he shall not be at home before me. By this time several of the prisoners were sold, the bowl went merrily round, and many of the planters gave Mr. Carew a glass, but none of them chose to buy him.
During this, Mr. Carew, observing a great many canoes and small boats lying along-side the vessel, thought it not impossible to make himself master of one them, and by that means reach the shore, where he supposed he might conceal himself till he found an opportunity of getting off; though this was a very hazardous attempt, and, if unsuccessful, would expose him to a great deal of hard usage, and probably put it out of his power of ever regaining his liberty, yet he was resolved to venture. He now recollected the common maxim, that ‘fortune favours the bold,’ and therefore took an opportunity, just as it grew dark, of slipping nimbly down the ship’s side into one of the canoes, which he paddled with as muchsilence and expedition as possible towards the shore: but he had not gone far before the noise he made gave the alarm, that one of the prisoners had escaped. Harrison immediately called out to inquire which of them, and where Carew was; and, being told that he was gone off, swore that he would much rather have lost half of the prisoners than him.